A chance
by MoonWallker
Summary: Prowl knew Bluestreak even before the beginning of the war. See how they met and how their fates intertwined. Not slash between Blue and Prowl, future Prowl/Jazz. Now each chapter BETA'D!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: TF doesn't belong to me and I don't make profit out of it. :)

Very, _very_ pre-war.

Beta'd by the amazing **GraceSolo.**

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><p>As usual Prowl was doing his rounds over his assigned sector in Praxus. It consisted doing three circuits around the city's square and two rounds around the gardens. It may not seem like much, but Praxus was a large city, with many Cybertronians. So rounding the aria, especially in the evening, when everyone was coming back from work, was quite lively.<p>

His patrol partner, Clockwise was driving next to him, both in traditional Enforcer alt modes.

::HQ to Enforcer Prowl. Please respond.::

::Prowl here.::

::We've gotten a call from a couple of citizens, referring to pickpocketing incident in your area.:: Responded a smooth femme voice ::They couldn't get a good look at the mech but he's Praxian build. Be on the lookout. ::

::Understood. Prowl out.::

"Do you think that's the thief we've been after?" Clockwise asked as the two officers changed directions and headed for a more populated area to observe – mainly around the gates of the Gardens, where a lot of tourists lurked.

"It is possible. But I doubt he would come and do such a lowly job." They parked near the entrance, hidden by a stray branch of crystals. "If our intel is right, he probably has pawns scattered all around the city."

A little over a joor passed and nothing suspicious happened. Even as his partner started to became restless, Prowl remained as stoic as ever.

"Hey...um Prowl? I heard about your creators – sorry mech. They were good folks." The bigger framed Enforcer shifted so he could look more closely at Prowl. "I know I already sent my condolences but still...you could talk to me anytime you want."

The other Enforcer never turned his gaze from the passing flow of Praxian in front of him. "Clockwise. I appreciate the concern – I truly do, but when on work, please restrain yourself from crossing the personal boundaries."

"Look, your mourning. I get it. Just saying you don't have to do it alone."

Prowl shifted on in his alt mode so he could get a better look of the other. "And you need to understand that worring about our personal life only hinders the job we do. And in our line of work, we have no place for it."

"...Right. Sorry."

They were new partners, still learning about each other but Clockwise was quick to understand that Prowl worked with cold efficiency. And he was always, _always_ right on any subject. He wasn't thrilled to work with the cold sparked enforcer but as a rookie, he had no choice in the matter.

"What is it?" Clockwise looked at the now transformed Prowl.

"I think I may have found our culprit." His wings flared as he increased his pace.

When said culprit spotted the enforcers, he made a dash for it, slightly surprising his persuaders with his speed.

::Prowl? Are you sure that's him? The pickpocket?::

::Yes, I have him recorded in action.::

::But he's a youngling!::

Prowl didn't answer and just increased his pace, dodging Praxians. It was far too populated to be in alt mode and the youngling couldn't transform -

::What in the - :: The two enforcers watched shocked as the youngling, _youngling_ transformed and dashed ahead.

::It would appear that not only the youngling would need reprimanding.:: Clockwise could hear the barely noticeable growl in the usually lay back Prowl. There is a _strict_ law prohibiting all sparkling and youngling from having subspaces and transformation cogs.

::Go around the corner. Block his path. I'll force him in a closed off street, where he can't run.::

There was an affirmative over the lines and Prowl transformed again. It was going to have to be a chase then. He flared his sirens.

The youngling was good, Prowl will give him credit. It swiftly maneuvered around other Praxians and the enforcer almost lost him a couple of times. On the other side of the rode Clockwise blocked the young one's path and the youngling dashed strait for the closed off alley like Prowl predicted.

"End of the line kid." The two enforcers closed in. "Come on, transform and we promise we'll give you a goodie if you comply." Clockwise bargained with the cornered youngling, both enforces not keened on the idea having to physically restrain the youngling, fearing causing him injury.

Unfortunately for Clockwise, the youngling not only did it not comply but it showed his colorful language.

"Why you little!"

"Listen to reason." Of course Prowl would take over the situation, "We will get you help. You are far too young to possess half of the modifications you have. You are exerting your systems." Prowl narrowed his optics and the very, _very_ small vehicle in front of him, "If someone if forcing you, you could tell us."

The black and white enforcer did not miss the slight tremble of the young ones frame. Unfortunately the youngling gained back his confidence, released a plethora of curses at them both, making Prowl cringe mentally. The youngling revved his engine and dashed forward towards the ebforcers blocking his escape,(made Clockwise jump out of the way or risk colliding with the kid) and was able to get away.

::This is getting ridiculous! It's one slaggin' youngling! How are we not able to catch it?::

Prowl did not answer. He will not risk injuring the child unless absolutely necessary. Besides, he already had a plan.

::His modification will tire him out. It's only a matter of time.:: At the grumble he got from the other line Prowl cut the connection and focused of finding the pickpocket.

The said youngling hastily transformed and slumped against a huge crystal in the gardens. This area contained no citizens, due to dangerous crystals hanging above him. He paid no mind to them.

Warnings of low fuel flashed across his HUD as his pump was about to explode. The youngling trembled, refusing to let out a whimper that was so desperately trying to escape. He couldn't let the enforcers take him. He needed to take those credits back otherwise...otherwise...

"Are you alright?" A smooth voice startled him.

Prowl observed how the youngling pressed himself closer to the crystal, scraping his wings in the process, but the child made no complains.

The Enforcer decided on a different approach as he stepped closer and crouched in front of the frightened youth.

"My designation is Prowl. And you would be?"

"...W-Why the frag should I tell you?" The fear morphed in to something else as his survival instincts kicked in.

Prowl frowned. "Younglings should not use such language. Didn't your creators teach you that?"

"...If I give you back the credits, will you leave?" If he had to, he will bargain his way out. Getting back credit-less was better than not coming back at all.

"Honestly? No." Prowl was blunt as always, "How old are you?"

He just needed a couple of breems and his systems would be able to get him out of here. Just a few more breems...

"I'm fourteen vorns old. You?"

Prowls frown deepened. "Why should I tell you my true age when you lied about yours?"

The youngling's optics doubled their size. How did he...

"Your frame, albeit upgraded is still very small," _Very_, small indeed, "I give you ten vorns, if not less."

The child in front of him acted just like one as coolant slightly leaked from optics, "Please, leave me alone. I'll give you back the credits, I'll do anything. I won't even tell I gave them to you. Please, I just want to go back."

He curled around himself seeming even smaller. Prowl, who had never dealt with younglings and sparklings before seemed lost at what to do.

"I am an Enforcer. My job is to help. Let me help you." The child looked at him lost.

"I _can_ help," Prowl insisted, trying to convince the youngling to confide in him.

"...No one can help me."

With systems finally cooled enough, the youngling tried the same tactic like before - dashing past Prowl, but this time the Enforcer was ready and caught him just in time. Prowl would have been surprised at how light the frame was if it wasn't for the younglings constant kicking and screaming, desperately trying to get away. Unfortunately, all of the noise caused the unstable crystals around them to tremble due to the vibrations of the high volume voices and pieces started to crumble.

Prowl barely had time to shield the small youngling as a piece fell over them, injuring his wings. Pain receptor overrode his CPU as pain flooded and the world turned black. Once the shock was over the youngling shakily stood up and still crying tried to wake up the downed mech.

"...P-Prowl?" He sniffed, "Prowl, please answer me?" The youngling just stood there fearing the worst.

"I-I killed him." He trembled as pure horror crept in his systems, "Please, please, please, _please_ wake up!" Tears fell from his face.

_Don't cry, bitlet. Ah'll protect ya._

_Stop crying this instant or I _will_ make you!_

A groan made the youngling turn to look at the fallen mech so fast his CPU suffered from vertigo. He stood there, silent and unmoving, begging Primus that he herd what he thought he did.

Another groan and the child released the air he was holding. He was alive! He was _alive_!

He wiped away the tears from his eyes and looked around. No one in sight. He bit his lip while opening his subspace and pulling out a few items.

* * *

><p>"A <em>youngling<em> did this to you?" Smokescreen asked, surprise clear in his voice as he watched the medic tend to his subordinates wings.

Prowl glared, "No, the crystals fell on me. There was a reason this section was off limits."

"Hey, boss. Check this out!" The blue Praxian turned to look at Clockwise who was holding a data pad along with a crummy looking bag.

"It's for Prowl." Prowl snapped his head up and looked at the other two standing figures. He opened the bag...that was full of credits.

"Well I'll be..." Muttered Smokescreen.

"Kid's good. Better than good, kid's great! There must over 5, 000 credits here..." Clockwise trailed off. "How did we miss this thief? If he could gather this much in just one Orn..."

But Prowl was more focused on the data pad in hand.

_Thank you for saving me. I'm really sorry you got hurt._

_I just reached nine vorns, by the way. _

_Bluestreak._

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><p>Bluestreak cowered on the floor, his cheek still painfully tingling where he was slapped.<p>

"Did I not make myself clear not to come back empty handed?" A bulky frame loomed over him, making the Praxian youngling feel even smaller than he was.

He was lifted roughly by his chevron. "I asked a question. _Speak_."

"I..I-I'm sorry! T-The enforcers came...and.. and I panicked.. and..." Sobs muffled his words as his captor crew more aggravated.

"Why did you let yourself be spotted?" He was shaken roughly as his cries were no longer from fear but pain.

"Ah think that's quite enough." A voice echoed from behind Bluestreak's captor. A black hand, connected to a black frame was holding on tightly over the huge arm what was tugging Bluestreak.

"Topspin, frag off before I slaggin' change my mind and feed you to the petro-rats."

Topspin glared, "Let go of the younglin', Swindle," a threat left hanging in the air.

A clicking sound and Swindle didn't need to turn his head to know a gun was pointed at him.

"S-Stop!" Bluestreak was able to tug away from Swindle and stood right next to Topspin, his little gray frame not even reaching the middle of the black one. No wonder the black and white enforcer knelt during their encounter, knowing his height (that was even bigger that this one's) would intimidate the youngling even more.

The gray mechling whimpered more as he cling to his 'only friend'. Unfortunately, Topspin was off the thief's base more often than not and even when on base, Bluestreak had trouble seeing him. But still, this black mech was the only one who was kind to him.

"Did I give you permission to move, trash?" Swindle glared, but when Topspin let go of his arm, he motioned for his guard to step away. The two of them headed for the door.

"I want my credits back. _Doubled_." Swindle did not even turn when he addressed the retreating bots. "Otherwise, I will take measures. You don't what that, do you?"

There was no reply.

"Answer!"

"N-No." The mechling hiccuped. "I won't fail again. I promise. I won't! Just please, don't hurt them!"

The response Bluestreak got was that of the door closing. He stood there, wings almost flat on his back as he tried to stop his tears.

"Shhh, it's okay Blue. You're okay, bitlet..." The older mech soothed as he crouched in front of the child and placed his hand on the small shoulders, covering them completely.

"'S-Spin?" He couldn't calm down. "Did you check on them? Are they okay?" He finally looked at the mech in front of him.

"Yeah, they're fine. Worried 'bout you, but fine." He reassuringly smiled.

Bluestreak nodded, but at who, he didn't know. He just shifted, drinking in the rare comfort he got from being around Topspin.

"Come recharge at my place tonight." At Bluestreak's hesitant glance, he smirked, "I've got your favorite goodies, still fresh."

And just then, Bluestreak remembered how hungry from today's ordeal he was. His energy was very low.

"...The ones with Magnesium in them?" He timidly asked.

Topspin off lined his optics and patted the small chevron head. "Yeah kiddo, the ones with magnesium." He murmured and took Bluestreak's hand to lead him to his quarters in the thief's base, wanting at least tonight the child to recharge at peace.

Because no one can rest in a place where you don't feel safe.

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><p>TBC<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Very, _very_ pre-war.

Disclaimer: Transformers doesn't belong to me :)

Beta'd by the amazing **GraceSolo.**

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><p>Prowl gazed around the room. He felt a wave of nausea hit him as he took in the full picture. Energon everywhere, scattered limbs...it was gruesome.<p>

"Well, I guess this is what happens when you piss of the Thief Lord." Clockwise looked around the room, unable to mask his disgusted expression as he gazed at the Cybertronian remains.

"Thief Lord?" Prowl looked at his partner. Anywhere was better than the splattered fluids of once living bots.

"It's what everyone calls him. Rumor has it he wanted to be known as such."

"The biggest mistake of villains like him are their cockiness." Prowl muttered and went to complete his investigation. This was not a normal warehouse...

"He proclaims himself as the underground ruler of Praxus and wants everyone to know him as such." Smokescreen explained. "I can barely wait to catch him."

"_If_. If we catch him." Corrected Clockwise but only earned himself a couple of nasty glares.

"We will catch him." Prowl said. His voice was emotionless and yet it radiated confidence, "Self-absorbed fools like him always make stupid mistakes. It's only a matter of time."

"Anyway," Started Smokescreen, "This was not a normal warehouse and a meaningless slaughter."

"Yes." Prowl looked around, noting the now missing vid cams, "This was their HQ. Apparently they found out we were closing in on them and fled the scene. These bots were probably executed as a warning."

"A warning for what?"

"So no one will dare double cross him, Clockwise."

"Oh."

Prowl frowned ,_'How did they found out we were on to them?'_

"This base is very big." Smokescreen noted, "How many followers does he have?"

"Enough." Stated Prowl and looked at a message that popped up in his HUD.

**::We need to meet. The roof of City Hall. Midnight.::**

The encrypted message was anonymous but Prowl knew exactly who sent it.

"There's nothing here for us." The black and white Praxian concluded, "I need to file a report about this. You can let the forensics team in now."

He didn't wait for their acknowledgment and left the warehouse.

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><p>Prowl gazed at the Crystal Gardens. It was there that he took an oath to protect this city. His creators bonding ceremony was held there... He dismissed the thought, not wanting to brood.<p>

His wings flared when he felt the presence of another. He quickly turned and pointed his acid pallet gun only to lower it when he saw the familiar back of a mech.

"...Topspin." Prowl subspaced the gun, "You're late."

"Sorry." The black mech muttered without turning to face Prowl, gazing at the gently glowing crystals in the distance. Under the ever glowing stars the scene was breathtaking. They were on the roof of the tallest building in Praxus having the perfect view of the cityscape.

"What happened in that warehouse? Swindle never liked to get his hands dirty and yet the place was a massacre."

Topspin tightened his hands around the precious cargo he held and glared at nothing in particular, "You tell me, Prowl. Everything was normal until all of a sudden Swindle stared killing bots."

"Why?" This didn't make any sense.

"Because he knows there's a snitch in his ranks!" The black mech growled. "Prowl, when I took on this mission I knew the risks, I can take care of myself. But you have a glitch-fraggin'-mouse under your watch and whoever the fragger is, knows you've placed a spy there. He just doesn't know who...Yet."

Prowl made a fist as his temper flared. So this is how Swindle found out and why he had fled.

"You do realize that I'm on my own." Topspin continued, "No one knows you've placed me there under a false name. If I get killed – I die as a thug. If the enforcers capture me – I'm held as one. If Swindle catches me... well let's just say you won't be able to find my parts."

Prowl frowned. He knew he placed his friend in a very delicate spot. The two of them worked alone and only alone. It was too risky to involve more bots, they couldn't trust them. So Prowl asked the one person he could trust most and placed him right under Swindle's nose.

"Jazz." He used his real name.

"Don't you get it, Prowler? You're my only link to the Enforcers. The only reminder that I'm one of the good guys."

"I know." He felt disgusted at himself for endangering his friend like that, "But we can't touch him. Not without hard evidence. Which, unfortunately we don't have."

Jazz smiled gently and looked at his cargo, "What if I tell you we have ourselves a witness."

Prowl's wings perked up, "We do? Who?"

Finally, Jazz turned around in all of his black armor glory. There, against the dark metal stood out a small gray form curled in the bots arms. Prowl never expected seeing him again. Especially in the spy's arm.

"Bluestreak?"

"I knew you'd remember him."

Prowl quickly closed the distance between himself and Jazz, gazing at the sleeping form in his arms. So this is why Jazz was late.

"Why in the name of Primus is he here?"

"Unfortunately, _he's_ our witness."

Prowl optics widen as he looked shocked at Jazz and then at the child.

"How is he even involved in this? He's just a pickpocket..."

"Yeah, little Blue told me about his encounter with you. He was very worried. Poor kid." Jazz sighed, "Like ya said – he's a good thief. And Swindle uses the profit he makes to pay some of his mechs."

"But why would he agree?"

"He didn't. The fragger was blackmailing him." He looked sadly at the small form, "Blue had two friends – twins – held captive in Kaon..."

Prowl didn't need to point out that Jazz was speaking in past tense...so that means...

"When Swindle started killing bots left and right, I hid Blue. And when the danger was over, he could no longer stay there. I can't protect him anymore without blowing up my cover."

"Why didn't you bring him in earlier?"

"What do ya think?" Jazz's gaze hardened, "Not with all of the optics and audios Swindle has in the Enforcers HQ. I was even reluctant to bring him here but had no other choice. I can trust him only with you and no one else."

"I promise you Jazz – I _will_ find the loose ends here. Even if I have to question every enforcer there is." Anger again spiked up in his systems, voice no longer monotone.

Jazz smiled, "I'm sure you will. And in the meantime..." He literally dumped the small body in Prowl's arms. Bluestreak didn't even twitch.

"Jazz? What..."

"I told you, I can trust only you and no one else with him." He started to leave, "New base is relocating in Kaon. I better hurry before it gets too late in the orn."

"Wait!" Prowl raised his voice but lowered it after the form in his arms stirred, "Jazz, you can't leave him with me." The stoic enforcer looked rather uncomfortable holding the small form.

"If not you, then who?" Remorse filled the air.

"I can't take care of a youngling. I don't know the first thing about childcare."

"Relax." Jazz stepped in to the shadows, "You'll figure it out. I'll call you when I call you." And with that, Prowl was left alone with the recharging form of Bluestreak.

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><p>TBC<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Very, _very_ pre-war.

Disclaimer: Transformers doesn't belong to me :)

Beta'd by the amazing **GraceSolo.**

* * *

><p>Prowl sighed as he placed the data pad down. No work would be done today. Not when his optics kept lingering towards the recharging youngling, curled up on the huge sofa in his office.<p>

At first, Prowl contemplated whether or not it would be appropriate to bring the youngling to the Enforcer's HQ, enrolling him in a witness protection program, but Jazz's warning never left his thoughts.

The said youngling had woken up only once, briefly taking in his surroundings. Prowl had tried to explain to the young one what was happening but exhaustion prompted the child to fall back in to recharge again.

Prowl had worried that Bluestreak would panic, having gone through such an ordeal, but the youngling merely tucked his head in closer to Prowl's plating and resumed recharge. Somewhere deep in his processor the mechling had made the connection _black and white – Prowl – safe-_safe_!_

The enforcer brought the youngling to his huge home. After his creators off-lined, the huge house seemed even bigger. Prowl's creators were wealthy mechs – his carrier had been a brilliant medic and his sire a dedicated enforcer. Both mechs were deeply in love, not only with each other but with their jobs as well. Thus the reason why Prowl never had any siblings. Even if Prowl didn't see much of his creators, he was loved and well taken care of as a youngling, and that was all Prowl needed.

But barely a vorn ago, his creators had off-lined from a tragic accident. His sire had been shot during patrol, his carrier was not able to save him, and both went to the matrix. Even if Prowl was already a fully upgraded and independent mech, it was still a harsh blow, for both him and his creator's many friends.

Prowl always preferred to work with cold efficiency, but after the death of his creators, he became even colder and more distant, even mechs from the enforcer department starting to fear him.

Loneliness is a terrible disease.

The house he lived in, the house of his creators was big, even for their lofty standards. It was a two level complex, containing a couple of spare berthrooms, living and dining room along with a huge washrack. There was his carrier's office where he used to take in patients from time to time when he wasn't working in the hospital and his sire's office as well, which was now Prowl's. And yet, Prowl didn't allow himself to feel lonely and depressed, burring himself in work.

Work he wasn't able to do. His reason? A small youngling, swallowed by the huge sofa in the office kept emitting soft clicking noises in his sleep that only sparklings and younglings did.

As if sensing that he was being watched, Bluestreak slowly powered up his optics. His wings fluttered as they stretched and he locked sleepy optics with Prowl.

A heavy silence followed.

Bluestreak looked around, for the first time taking in his surroundings. Bluestreak asked with a curiosity and innocence only a youngling could possess, "Where am I?"

"In my home." Prowl straightened in his seat.

"Oh."

Prowl rubbed his chevron. This was going to be difficult.

"Do you know what's happening, Bluestreak? Do you remember who I am? How you got here?"

"...Prowl."

"That's right. I'm Prowl. We've already met." He regarded the youngling, noticing his defensive position, knees tucked and hands wrapped around himself, "Do you remember what happened last cycle?"

"Umm...no." The child shied away. Prowl frowned. Jazz had told him that this was the witness to the slaughter at the warehouse.

"What do you remember? Do you know who Swindle is?" At the mention of the name, the mechlet's wings started trembling so hard Prowl actually heard the metal rattling.

"Yeah...I just don't remember anything from last cycle..." Prowl frowned further. He checked the time – it would appear it was mid-morning. The shaken up child wouldn't be answering his questions anytime soon. If his reaction to just mentioning Swindle's name is so frightening for the young spark, then time would be required to coax an explanation out.

He stood up and went to kneel in front of the youngling. Bluestreak flinched away but otherwise said nothing as Prowl scooped him up awkwardly (he really was that small) and carried him to the kitchen.

"Here." Prowl offered the gray Praxian a smaller cube filled with pale pink energon, while he drank his bigger cube of the richer shaded mid-grade . Bluestreak accepted the offering, not daring to deny anything.

"What is it?" Prowl asked, noticing that Bluestreak wasn't drinking his cube.

"It's the wrong color..." The cube was eyed warily.

"It's low grade. It's what underdeveloped tanks require." Prowl had done his research while Bluestreak rested. He knew what to provide so the youngling could remain energized and healthy, but that was it.

"Oh." Bluestreak looked at the cube, his wariness slowly vanishing and took a small sip. "It's sweeter." Bluestreak smiled. He liked the taste of this cube better than the ones he used to drink.

Prowl had placed his cube down and was regarding the youngling fully, "Is this the first time you have drank low grade?" At Bluestreak's nod Prowl couldn't help but curse inwardly. The mechling had probably been drinking normal, non-purified mid-grade. His systems were not meant for that yet, and drinking too high of an energon grade too soon could have long-term effects on a youngling.

He quickly added an appointment to the medics for later this Orn to his mental list of things to do as he watched Bluestreak drink the entire cube hungrily. After Bluestreak finished the cube he was scooped up again. The youngling flinched again but otherwise stayed quiet.

Prowl carried his young charge to the washracks next.

"Big..." Bluestreak muttered, as he eyed his surrounding in astonishment. There was a huge 'pool' where mechs are supposed to simply relax as the water and solvent removed the dust from their frames, while the shower stalls were meant for the real cleaning.

Bluestreak eyes the 'pool' warily. He hated ponds. But most of all, he hated _deep_ ponds. Prowl must have been following his gaze, since he advised Bluestreak to stay away from it. He could easily fall and drown himself.

Bluestreak sighed in relief as the grime from his body was slowly being removed and warmth from the solvent spray crept all over his body. When was the last time he had such a thorough wash? A while back with Topspin, but it was so long ago.

Prowl took extra care of Bluestreak's door wings. Prowl's carrier had always instructed him to wash them at least every orn to prevent dust and grime from getting in between the delicate joints. Apparently, Bluestreak hadn't been taught the same. The enforcer couldn't say he was surprised.

Prowl suddenly stopped what he was doing when he heard a faint sound emitting from the mechling. Bluestreak's engine...was _purring_?

It was a soft noise. So low that probably almost no one would be able to hear it with the water falling from the stall, but it was still there. It sounded... nice.

After drying Bluestreak, the youngling was placed again on the sofa as Prowl returned to his desk. Now that the youngling was fed and cleaned, Prowl could return to work with a processor at peace. He had to figure out how Bluestreak's life would continue from now on and who would take responsibility for him.

Unfortunately, Prowl didn't realize he treated Bluestreak like a pet, not a youngling. Fortunately, Bluestreak didn't either.

How long will Bluestreak stay here? They can't force him to stay here forever – he is a living sentient being. Locking him up would be deteriorating for his health. What if the youngling never remembered what happened last cycle? They wouldn't be able to take his statement. But it was probably better this way, not remembering that slaughter... Prowl shook his head. Bluestreak had been a witness to many other wrongings by this criminal. Surely they were enough.

He took out an empty data pad and started writing a list of the things he would need. From more low grade energon to new paint, since he was considering repainting the young mech...

He looked up from his pad to check on Bluestreak, only to find him missing. All of his thoughts came to a halt as he stood up and quickly headed for the door. When had he slipped away? He was a pickpocket, stealth was in the job description. No wonder Prowl didn't hear him sneaking out of his office.

Luckily, as a youngling growing up here, Prowl had found all of the best hiding places this house possessed and quickly started checking them all. Bluestreak wasn't in any of them. Bluestreak hadn't explored the house enough to know them yet. Prowl found the youngling in his old room, sitting on his knees on the window seat, doorwings low and looking off into the distance.

"He's going to find me, isn't he?" Bluestreak didn't wait for an answer, continuing his thoughts aloud. "He always does." Prowl didn't need to ask who _he_ was. "H-he killed them." Bluestreak trembled.

"Sunny and Sides… Primus, they're dead. Just like my creators. They are dead because of me. B-Because I-I couldn't protect them…"

Prowl heard the youngling's vents hiccup and even if on the outside he remained impassive, on the inside panic started to rise. What was he supposed to do now? He wasn't very good at showing his emotions. His parents didn't know what to say in situations like these as well. They just either held him or let him clear his possessor on his own. Prowl went with the first.

He scooped up Bluestreak again, noticing for the first time that the youngling was holding a picture...Where did he get it? The subspace...Prowl would ask the medic to disable most of Bluestreak's functions. They were not meant for a youngling's frame. Not yet. It was a miracle he could even drive. Sometimes it takes orns for mechs to learn that.

"They were my best and only friends…" Bluestreak muttered miserably. At first, just like before, he flinched when Prowl touched him but relaxed in the embrace.

Prowl at loss what to say to a grieving youngling just held him tighter, offering protection. That at least Prowl knew he was capable of. The enforcer got startled of his thoughts when he got a ping on his intercom.

Prowl straightened but didn't release Bluestreak since the mechling refused to let him go. The elder Praxian focused on the call. It was the medic he requested for. He was early. He was friends of his carrier from Iacon. Prowl knew he could trust him. It was better than visiting the clinic, not now when he didn't know who he could trust.

"Come along, Bluestreak." Prowl said quietly. He left Bluesteak waiting in his carrier's office as he went to greet the medic.

"Ratchet, I am glad you were able to respond so quickly." Prowl gave a rare smile, reserved only for his friends. He felt the tingle of a scan and raised his brows in hidden amusement.

"Huh, well for once you are at optimum levels. Which leaves us to the question, why am I here?" The gruff medic entered as Prowl stepped aside. "Did that idiot of a saboteur slagged himself up again? Because, Primus help him, if he did…" A threat left hanging in the air as Prowl led the medic further in his house. This would not be the first time of Ratchet coming here.

Being friends with Jazz was hazardous.

"You must treat this with a lot of discretion, Ratchet. A youngling's life may be at stake." Prowl answered as he led the medic to his carrier's office.

Medic and youngling froze.

"_You_!" Ratchet glared, "What on Cybertron are you doing here?" Later, Ratchet would prize himself for restraining his curses in front of young audios.

"You two know each other?" Prowl asked as he looked at Bluestreak's worried expression. The youngling was looking like considering bolting right then and there but knew better.

"Yeah," Ratchet muttered but softened his features, seeing the frightened youth, "I've been trying to catch this one for quite some time. Ever since he stole my credits and demonstrated his ability to transform, I was trying to find him. Younglings are _not_ meant to transform. I'm going to carve that in his creators CPU's with a blow torch if I have too."

The medic moved over to the youngling but it was then that Bluestreak finally had it and jumped from the couch, only to hide under the desk.

"Whoa! It's okay Blue! I'm not going to hurt you!" Ratchet looked sadly at the cowering youngling.

Prowl calmly (he knew he had to respond slowly and carefully around Bluestreak) crouched in front of the desk, peaking under it. Ratchet stood a safe distance behind, watching the spectacle.

"Please come out, Bluestreak. No one will hurt you, I promise." Prowl softly murmured to the youngling. So far, talking gently to the young one seemed to work. But this time Bluestreak simply curled around himself even more, staring wide opticed at the medic.

"Please, Bluestreak." Prowl reached with a servo, "Come out? For me?"

Finally deciding it was safe, Bluestreak slowly, tentatively emerged from under the desk, helped up by Prowl.

"Don't leave me alone with him." The quiet youngling muttered.

"I won't." Prowl said and lifted Bluestreak to the sofa. "He's going to check you for injuries and viruses. Ratchet will also disable your transformation, subspace and internal comm. link. A youngling is not supposed to have them. It's against the law."

"Why?" Came the innocent reply.

"Listen, Blue." Ratchet started. He needed to ensure the small Praxian that he was not a threat. "You are still very, very young. You are not meant for those upgrades, yet. Not only are you not mature enough, but also they strain your systems quite a lot. Probably the reason why you were given normal midgrade and not low grade, if my scans are right."

"Oh." That made sense. Bluestreak did feel really tired at the end of each orn. But he liked his upgrades. But if Prowl insisted them gone and the medic thought they were bad for him , Bluestreak would allow them to be removed.

"Now, I'm just going to offline you. You won't feel a thing. I promise you that." Ratchet spoke gently as he stopped in front of the youngling, huddled at Prowls side.

Bluestreak felt Prowls hand tightened around his shoulder in reassurance and let the medic plug in via a port in his neck. Not long after that, he was soundly in recharge.

* * *

><p>TBC. Tell me what you think?<p> 


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